


A Wraith by Any Other Name Wouldn't Taste as Sweet

by ClassyContessa, Kinkstroke



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Drugs, Eating, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sex, Supernatural Elements, Wraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-07 01:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyContessa/pseuds/ClassyContessa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinkstroke/pseuds/Kinkstroke
Summary: Roy’s hellbent on ruining his life with drugs. Until a handsome, black-eyed man crosses his path. Only that Jason isn't no man. He's a wraith, hungry for Roy's flesh and soul!Blood and cannibalism kink warnings.





	1. Unicorn Trip

Roy stumbled through a jungle of concrete while high out of his goddamn mind.

He wasn’t sure where he was, only that he’d shot up at his dealer’s house, and was slowly making his way home. Roy, high or sober, was confident in his ability to get home safe and sound. But now, as he traipsed through a ruined, abandoned apartment complex, perhaps his luck had finally run out.

Roy felt his back thump against the wall and slide to the ground. Welp. Looks like he wasn’t moving anytime soon.

With closed eyes, he leaned the back of his head against the cold wall and tried to take a deep breath, trying to find his strength again, but he was struggling. His legs felt like pudding, feet slipping beneath him every time he tried to get up. His arms weren’t any better. He shrugged, staring down at his lifeless limbs just hanging from his body, flapping a bit while he moved his shoulders. 

“Pudding,” Roy giggled, as he kept flapping his arms. Great. Now he wanted pudding. Strawberry? Mango? Mango! Mango pudding with bits of aloe vera mango inside–

Something moved.

Roy could tell, even through the haze of his stupefying high, the feeling of something crawl up his neck. A pair of eyes, watching him. 

It was strange, feeling old Arsenal instincts fire up again. Pity he didn’t have his bow on him. Roy turned around to look, however slow, armed with...pudding arms. Whoever was lurking around the corner should be frightened to death.

“Someone out there?” Roy shouted into the void. 

As alert as the drugs allowed him to be, his gaze wandered over the stacks of furniture and undefinable debris of what had possibly been a lobby a long time ago. The rubbish painted bizarre shadows on the ground, some even stretching up the walls. He thought he had seen a blurry figure standing behind an old piano, but when his eyes found the spot, it was just a sparkly unicorn. 

“Oh, rad,” Roy mumbled. Unicorns. Maybe the unicorns had pudding. Roy vaguely made grabby hands at the unicorn, but it seemed to drift away. Oh well. Noting the ruined furniture around him, Roy supposed he could Goldilocks it and take the sofa for himself. He’d be reasonably safe without risking a sore neck from sleeping against a wall.

Roy softly crawled to the sofa, hooking a floppy pudding leg on one cushion, then the other leg–and finally, his back met old, crusty, yet somewhat soft pillows. Roy closed his eyes for a moment and relaxed.

Roy felt those eyes again.

With a soft groan, he rubbed his eyes and turned his head around, about to politely ask Rainbow Dash to let him sleep and bother him tomorrow, when he found himself staring down a pair of jet-black abysses less than an inch away from his face. 

“Holy shit!” 

Roy backed away immediately, back hitting the armrest. His vision swirled for a moment as he tried to gather his bearings. When the fog finally cleared, he found himself facing a man.

A man with completely, fully black eyes.

“You,” Roy spoke, then coughed, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Yes, the man was still there. The man’s eyes seemed as if they were attempting to swallow Roy’s soul whole, but with the way they glimmered under fading light, the way the man cocked his head like an inquisitive puppy, Roy felt like he was looking at a cute, harmless animal in human form.

The man continued to stare at him from afar. 

“Uh. You have no whites in your eyes,” Roy spurted, then mentally smacked his forehead. That was rude. You didn’t just ask a person why they don’t have whites in their eyes.

The man just blinked before a smile spread over his lips. He tilted his head to the side, and fuck, how did he manage to look so cute with freaking black eyes?

“I know,” came a chuckled reply, voice deep and husky. Roy shivered. “But you have quite a lot in return. Enough for both of us.” 

Roy could only nod, letting out a desperate wheeze. He didn’t feel able to talk anymore. 

But the other didn’t mind as it seemed, still smiling at him curiously. “I scared you, didn’t I? I’m sorry for that, I’m usually not that rude. I do have manners.” 

“My name is Jason,” the man–Jason, extended his right hand. Likely to shake. Roy extended his left–no wait, right hand, and shook it tentatively. Well, more like flopped hands with Jason. His arms were still pudding after all.

Jason didn’t seem to mind, only smiling wider. Roy could see canines appear at the sides, and his mind fumbled to re-evaluate the danger of the situation. 

Roy didn’t even see Jason move out of his line of sight until a hand softly caressed his arm. He felt arms shift him forward, and absolute warmth press against his back. Roy leaned into it, feeling Jason’s hot breath on his neck. Moaning quietly, he settled into the soft heat. 

Something sharp pierce the top of Roy’s ear, followed by those plump lips, smothering over the pain. Jason exclaimed, startled, before going in to bite more of Roy’s ear.

“You are tasty…” Jason spoke between bites, sounding surprised. Of course, Roy thought, of course he was tasty. He was a very tasty man.

“Do I taste like pudding?” Roy mumbled, before lolling his head to a side. Roy heard that deep chuckle again, sounding like purring ecstasy now that Jason was so close to his ear. Roy’s arms found purchase on Jason’s thighs and softly stroked them in return, the muscled firmness grounding him. 

Roy then heard a sharp gasp–and suddenly, the great warmth left him. Roy whined as his back hit the sofa again, scrambling for heat. A soft fabric fell over him, hands tucking it beneath him.

“What’s your name?” Jason asked and Roy’s vision blurred again, unable to keep up with reality. Yet no, Jason asked a question. A very important question. He should tell.

“Roy,” he stammered, just as his eyes fell firmly shut. 

“Goodnight, Roy,” that wondrous, dangerous yet comforting voice spoke, and Roy fell asleep, knowing he was safe.


	2. Nesting Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has to take care of his dumb, possibly new friend. Or more?

Jason was sitting on a bookshelf, still half filled with various books in different states of decomposition, when Roy was slowly waking up. He had positioned himself a few feet away to not scare the boy–now that Roy was sober, Jason wasn’t sure he’d be as gracious now as when he was high. Jason’s feet dangled from the highest board, while he leaned forward to catch every move of his guest. 

The redhead blinked a few times at the unspectacular ceiling, hands rubbing over his eyes, before he swung his legs off the couch and tried to sit up. He groaned. 

“Not pudding,” Roy murmured, shook his head. Another groan. “But definitely headache. Great.” 

Jason watched curiously as Roy took a couple of deep breaths with his head between his hands, perhaps fighting vertigo. Jason knew he had been a human once, but whatever memories he had of that time did not stick. Thus, Jason wasn’t entirely sure what Roy was going through right now–only that it was likely painful. 

“Fluttershy...” Roy mumbled, before snapping his eyes wide open. Roy’s eyes darted around the room, before rising off the sofa to look around. Alarm bells rang through Jason’s head–Roy must be looking for him. His position on the bookshelf wasn’t that high, and Roy was tall. Jason carefully maneuvered himself as Roy looked, silently crossing the tops of tall furniture whenever Roy’s vision and body shifted.

Then, Roy looked up.

Jason scrambled–then remembered who he was. What he was made of. With a burst of energy, Jason turned his flesh and bones from tangible to a red-tinted transparency. Little wisps of red smoke gathered around him, but Roy wouldn’t be able to see that, not unless Jason wanted him to. 

Roy’s eyes swept around the ceiling. For a moment, he stared right at Jason. Through him. 

Roy’s shoulders slowly dropped, un-tensing. He checked his pockets, gave another cursory glance around the room, and began to make his way out of the rotting lobby. 

Jason sighed, turning back to his human form. Careful to note that Roy’s heat signature had crossed a certain distance, Jason leapt down and dusted his hands. Roy’s signature moved further and further away. A thought slowly seeped into Jason’s head.

Would Roy ever come back again?

The question itched at Jason, poked and prodded at his lonely, lonely brain. 

“Shit,” Jason thought, before following Roy’s signature.

It was a cat and mouse game–Roy’s senses were intensely perceptive for someone so hungover. Occasionally, Roy would look up to the rooftops where Jason travelled, sometimes even stopping for a moment to stare. Everytime that happened, Jason made sure he’d turn into his wraith form, and Roy’s suspicion would slowly die. Jason had no idea who this man could be–ex-military? Special forces? One of those… vigilantes? Either way, Jason was keen to find out.

Buildings went from shabby and utterly decrepid to luscious and rich as Jason continued to follow Roy, watching as the man entered a particularly fancy building. Jason didn’t even need to follow his heat signature anymore–he could see him through the glass, throwing keys across a table and flopping onto his bed. 

He was living in a fucking penthouse. No wonder he had enough money to finance his expensive escapades. That had certainly not been his first high. 

For a few moments, Jason was standing still in front of the building. He watched Roy get up from his bed, walk around in circles, expression curled nastily in what seemed like pain or frustration. Roy began to rummage through drawers, leaving them askew. Seeming even more frustrated, Roy moved to his luxurious, yet laundry–ridden living room to walk in wider circles. For a moment, Roy tripped on his feet, and instead of getting up, he started to do some push-ups.

Those were an impressive number of pushups for someone so drug-addled.

When he finally saw Roy opening the fridge to take out a pack of mouldy bread, throwing it away with a pitiful expression in his eyes, Jason had seen enough. Within a second, he surrounded himself with red mist again. He just had to concentrate on the living room visible through the glass walls and-

Jason dissolved. 

The world around him sped up while he was pulled towards the glass and through it, landing in the middle of the living room, right next to a grand piano. It was covered in dust. Someone wasn’t practicing. 

Jason was actually impressed that Roy’s head snapped in his direction and his gaze was pointed toward his form, almost as if he was seeing him this time. Jason had to check that, yes, he was still transparent and hidden in the red smoke. Another long second passed before Roy shook his head and turned away, leaving the open kitchen with a banana in his hand. 

Looking around the penthouse was exhausting as Jason quickly found out. It was an excellent loft with a high ceiling and window panels allowing the sunlight inside and a clear view on the night sky–not that the bright city would allow any star to shine. However, though the furniture was clearly made of the finest materials, they were buried in piles of clothes and fast food containers. The living room couch was particularly heinous–amongst the expensive throw pillows and blankets, there were pills and baggies scattered all over. The table had some lines of white dust, a credit card laid askew.

Is this what made Roy so tasty? Jason looked back at the man, who sat at the brim of his bed munching on the banana like the fruit had greatly offended him. Then Jason remembered, how firm and thicc Roy’s arms were as Jason caressed it, how Roy’s body emanated warmth. Perhaps, it wasn’t what Roy ate, drank or shot up that made him tasty. 

Roy may be Jason’s mate.

Jason felt sharp, short jolts of panic course through him as he assessed the situation. He looked at Roy, then at the drugs, the empty fridge, and back at Roy. 

“No,” Jason thought. He would not have this. 

It was simple enough, spotting a Whole Foods in the distance, teleporting to it and coming back with food. Bread, nutella (very essential), granola, milk, baguettes (Jason liked that one a lot, even if it was empty carbs for him.) And more bananas, since Roy seemed to like them so much. 

It wasn’t much, but he would add to that later. After all, it was night, and groceries by now were no longer fresh. Jason would have to come back and, instead of stealing, buy fresh food. 

He put the milk in the fridge and stored the bread, granola, nutella and baguettes in the cupboard. Roy needed to learn that one didn’t leave bread in the fridge to dry out. Just as Jason stepped away, he thought for a moment and stepped back to leave the bread cupboard open. That way, Roy couldn’t miss it. 

Jason, still transparent, walked over to Roy’s room, just to check on him. The latter had passed out on the bed, mouth open and banana peel hanging from his fingers. Jason sighed as he bent to pluck the peel from his hands, and slowly closed his mouth. 

“You are my mate?” Jason lamented, as he looked around for a trash can. Something glinted above him–Jason looked up.

A great, red bow hung on a mantle above the bed. Jason dropped the peel, drinking in the sheer magnificence of the weapon. He walked around the bed, gaze fixed on the compound bow.

Jason looked back at Roy. Whoever this man was, however addicted or sloppy, he must have been a great man to wield such a mighty weapon.

With the affirmation that he had an excellent mate, Jason took one last look before vanishing away. Jason would be back, he had to be. He needed to keep his dumb mate alive.

* * *

Over the past few weeks, Jason switched between his nest at the abandoned building and Roy’s penthouse back and forth. He put great effort into cleaning the loft, washing the endless piles of clothes that were spread over the whole place and throwing away the impressive collection of take-away containers. 

He also found Roy’s closet. It was filled enough to provide clothes for a family of seven and explained why Roy had never felt the need to wash at all. Jason was speechless, and maybe a bit jealous as well.

After the living areas were presentable again, Jason used Roy’s nightly absence to explore the remaining rooms. He found a guest room with ensuite bathroom, both covered in dust, obviously out of order since the first day. There was an array of intriguing weaponry for a whole variety of different bows, spare strings, arrows with various interesting tips. Jason was pretty sure some of them were packed with explosives. Why Roy needed these things, Jason had no idea. 

He was beginning to think that he stood in the holy chambers of a vigilante (who else would need a form fitting red leather costume with a big hood and a domino mask tossed in a corner).

The library was gorgeous. Jason had never seen shelves as tall as the ceiling, as wide as the room itself. They were filled to the brim, books having to snuggle tightly to fit in. Sadly, Jason couldn’t feel Roy’s signature in the room at all. It seemed as if he had never put a foot inside. 

Jason shrugged. It was free real estate.

He began to nest. 

At first, it was just a soft blanket he brought with him. Pillows followed to make his new place more comfortable, plushies he had found somewhere and could finally wash. He also took some of the throw pillows and blankets off Roy’s couch, using the furs to isolate his nest against the cold from underneath. 

And maybe, he took a few shirts that smelled like Roy, pressing his face into the thin fabric, inhaling deeply. 

Within a few days, he had built himself a home amidst the books and occasionally curled into a ball, resting in the well-arranged pile of Roy’s things.

Considering how present Jason was making himself, it was abysmal how Roy still had yet to detect him. Roy hadn’t touched his bow or arsenal of weapons either, indicating that he really did waste his nights away partying or getting high. Roy also hadn’t touched the baguettes, which annoyed Jason to no end. 

It was made clear–Jason had to do more than stock the fridge and cupboards. When dusk arrived, around the time Roy would wake up, Jason cut slices of the baguettes, spread nutella over them and left them on a plate on the dining table. He poured a glass of milk and left it on the table too. Jason looked over his handiwork, squinted, then took out pieces of paper and scribbled in marker. He folded the papers to make them stand up, and then set one that wrote “Eat Me” next to the plate, and “Drink Me” next to the milk. 

Dusting his hands, Jason retreated to the tops of furniture again, just in time to see Roy stumble into the dining area. Jason watched Roy squint at the signs, then widen those green eyes in incredulity. Roy did more of his eye-darting and searching, then finally shrugged before procuring some pills from his pocket, and taking them along with the milk. 

Jason sighed–it could not be helped, but Jason wasn’t necessarily the best candidate to cure addiction. As long as Roy was munching on the baguette, which he was, Jason was doing his job.


	3. Eating Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some eating. Lol.

It was beyond suspicious to Roy now, that someone was stalking him.

Now, don’t get Roy wrong, stalking was a creepy, dangerous, invasive act. Yet whoever this stalker was, they were filling up his fridge and cupboards with food, cleaning his apartment, and now even making food for him.

Roy munched on the nutella–spread baguette (...interesting choice), waiting for his high to kick in. Roy didn’t like to exist between sleep and being high–soberness for Roy was a constant hangover, a field wherein Roy had to face the harshest realities of life. Not to mention the immediate damage to his body from smoking, drinking and shooting too much, which would be numbed by getting high again. Too long sober, and Roy would begin to feel the itch, the impending need, a wheedle in his brain drilling in, asking for the next hit. 

Nutella and baguettes seemed to make things alright for the moment though. To which Roy had an imaginary stalker to thank.

As more weeks passed, the gestures increased in intensity. Roy would greet “breakfast” at sunset, ranging from fresh-made granola cereal to elaborate omelets. Roy would check the perimetre for any breach, come up with nothing, and then go out for a night of clubbing. Or spend the time at his dealer’s place getting higher than a kite. He’d come home to more food, sandwiches, salads and more. Once Roy was left a chili dog so divine, he couldn’t help but moan. He hoped his stalker heard that too.

One night, Roy came back home particularly demolished. He’d used up every bit of his bodily energy partying, getting high, drinking, smoking and more partying. Roy was completely wasted. He wasn’t entirely sure how he made it back to his apartment, but he stumbled in and checked the dining table, as was his new habit. No food. 

“I probably deserve that,” Roy sputtered, before moving to the sofa to belly flop.

He didn't know he had fallen asleep until he woke to a wondrous fragrance. Roy blinked, rubbed his eyes and rolled off the couch–making a short stop on the floor when he actually fell off the sofa. His legs were back to pudding again and he decided to crawl to the kitchen mreowing like a hungry kitten waiting for warm milk. 

As soon as he came near the kitchen table and saw it overloaded with food, he froze, only to stumble onto his feet and hurry to the big table, staring at the food in awe. A full breakfast was waiting for him. A full breakfast that could feed a whole army. 

Roy was speechless. 

The table was covered with big plates and pans filled with pancakes with maple syrup and berries, granola, cooked beans, sausages, fried tomatoes, bacon, scrambled eggs, mushrooms (but no black pudding), clotted cream, scones, peach marmalade, cucumber sandwiches and cute slices of toast. Yogurt mixed with berries and granola was waiting next to a giant pot of English Breakfast tea. A piece of paper stood in the middle of this spread, stating “Eat Me Please!” Another piece of paper stood at the end of the table, covering something that stated “Mango Pudding: For Dessert.”

Roy’s consciousness snapped awake–there was only one man, if he even was a man, that could possibly know of Roy’s love for mango pudding. Or at least, the one man who was there to witness Roy’s string of pudding murmuring. The man with the black eyes.

Roy looked around the apartment, intent on finding his stalker. It was then he saw a wisp of red smoke–Roy’s eyes darted to the window, where a figure stood perched at the edge, dissolving into nothingness. The man stared back at him.

Black eyes. It was him.

Roy ran to the window, clasping the sill as he looked around to where the hell he may have possibly gone. There was no singular trace of him, not one wisp of smoke. What was he? A meta? Some magic man? Either way, it was clear Roy wasn’t going to be able to follow him anytime soon.

Whatever. For now, Roy would enjoy his meal.

Slipping into the single chair that had an empty plate waiting for him, he let his gaze wander over the selection of freshly made food, admiring it with an open mouth. He started to drool, but didn't care. He hadn't seen that much food in a long time. 

As he piled food onto his plate, he stared at the mango pudding. He’d get to it. Soon.

* * *

It took Roy less than a day to find the abandoned building again, hidden in a small alleyway that looked as if nobody had entered it in the last fifteen years (which wasn't true, Roy had been here). 

The door was closed but not locked and probably wouldn't have survived a single kick from literally anybody. Roy pushed it open and stumbled into the lobby. He could vaguely remember the piles of debris and rotten furniture–and of course, the couch. 

Watching his steps, Roy crossed the wide room and let his gaze wander around, taking in the details he hadn’t cared about before. Spots lacking any sight of dust like the couch, which was old but still in very good shape, or the piano. Roy slid his fingers over the keys and checked. Not a single grain of dust. 

There was also a path through the destroyed lobby that became obvious, now that he was sober and clean in his head despite the itch and nervous twitching. How had he not seen that earlier? Oliver would've been disappointed. 

"Hello?" Roy shouted into the void and spun around in all directions. "I know you're living here! You can come out!" 

He waited for a response but didn't get one. 

Roy frowned. The man; he had given him a name. He squinted, blinked, rubbed the bridge of his nose. Had it been…

"Jason? Jason, are you here? I think we need to talk. I really appreciate what you've done for me, but I think you need help. Stalking is… there are ways for you to get help!" 

A deep chuckle rumbled through Roy’s surroundings.

Then, Roy felt that warmth against his back all over again. A hand stroking his arm. A chin now rested on his left shoulder, hair tickling against Roy’s neck. So like homecoming, like returning to the comfort of long, lost, pleasant memories, Roy leaned into it, letting himself be rocked back and forth.

“I’m only keeping my dumb mate safe,” Jason’s voice mumbled into his neck. Roy indulged in the press of his lips, before teeth grazed against his skin–with a sharp bite, incisors sunk in. It was painful, yes, intensely so, but Roy relished the way Jason would soothe him with a lick of his tongue and press of his lips.

“You’re even more tasty without all that...poison,” Jason continued, making several more bites along Roy’s neck. Roy could feel the teeth slowly worry at bits of his skin, and with several more shallow nibbles, he was sure that bits of his flesh were being...eaten.

Roy whipped around to stare at Jason.

“What the fuck are you? And why the hell am I your ‘mate?’” Roy asked, voice quickening as the questions piled up. Jason held his hands up in surrender, though while smiling a bloody, toothy grin. Roy touched his neck, where he could feel little wet welts. He looked at his hands, tainted with blood.

Jason’s eyes started to widen, smile dropping. With that cute frown, worried look and puppy black eyes, Roy felt utterly conflicted. This man was eating him! Yet, he’d taken care of him in ways that nobody in his life ever did. But he was eating him! It was all a great conundrum. Roy felt stuck in a Twilight novel.

“Just tell me what the hell is happening, Jason,” Roy cautioned, raising his own hands up. Jason seemed to calm down, then again closed the gap between them. He held Roy by his elbows as Roy placed his hands on Jason’s chest, and suddenly, they were in sweet, sweet limbo again. Those red wisps of smoke began to surround them, and in a blink of an eye, Roy was on the couch, laying on top of Jason, who softly caressed his hair.

“Your hair reminds me of cotton candy,” Jason spoke in a deep lull as he ran his fingers through every strand. Roy felt so peaceful again, undisturbed by withdrawals or the weight of life.

“What kind of magic are you,” Roy whispered, utterly relaxed. Jason smiled, before contorting his face, possibly thinking of ways to say what he wished to say. Jason repositioned Roy so they were belly-to-belly. Face-to-face.

“I’m a wraith, Roy,” Jason spoke, softly stroking Roy’s chin. “I eat people.”

“Ah,” Roy replied, unsure of what to make of that. So his stalker and caretaker was a supernatural cannibal. Alright. That begged the question though, why Roy hadn’t been flayed alive yet.

“You...haven’t eaten me yet, though,” Roy implored, to which Jason gave a slow, bittersweet smile.

“I could not kill my mate, love. And I couldn’t let you die the way you live,” Jason spoke, voice breaking. Roy’s heart melted, a long stored guilt over his addiction resurfacing. Roy knew quitting Arsenal and going full-time into drugs was a blatant spiral into failure, a suicidal acceptance to how society, superheroes and Oliver had rejected him. What fate was Roy’s, to find safety and comfort in a man-eater?

Jason looked intently at Roy, wetness gathering around his eyes. Roy reached to wipe them away with his fingers. Then promptly kissed him.

It was so soft, sensual, the press of lips onto one another. Roy could taste the tang of blood on his tongue, like an accent to the sharp grazes of his incisors along his lips. Roy gripped onto Jason’s shirt as their kisses deepened, Jason’s hands wandering along Roy’s body to grab his ass.

“I knew you were my mate by taste, by the way,” Jason gasped between kisses.

“Of course, that makes sense,” Roy replied, and went back to mashing lips.

He wasn't aware of his actions anymore. All he could think of was the addictive taste of Jason's lips and those strong arms holding him securely in a tight embrace. 

Roy moaned. He pressed back into Jason's hands, feeling the firm grip on his cheeks, kneading his flesh. 

He lost himself in a wave of arousal, grinding against Jason's crotch. He felt… so big. 

"Love, hey– what are you doing?"

Roy didn't react to the confused question at first. Digging his fingers into the thick material of Jason's jeans, he fumbled with the button in his attempt to rip it open and get access to that schlong. Why did clothes have to be so complicated? 

The button snapped. 

Roy growled in pleasure and pulled the zipper open, sliding down on Jason to align his face to his crotch. A dick sprang right into his face. 

"No underwear," he breathed against the hard flesh, and his eyes flickered up to Jason while he was grinning at the man. "That's naughty." 

Jason was silent, staring down at him with wide eyes (Roy was still intrigued that he couldn't see any white in them). As if he had never received a blowjob. Maybe he really never had? 

Roy kissed the dripping tip. 

A gasp. 

He opened his lips slightly, swallowing the cock head whole. His teeth scraped over the sensitive skin.

Another gasp. 

"R-Roy? I-I still need that part of my body," Jason gulped rawly. "Please don't e-eat m– woah!"

Roy had started to suck. 

"Fuck, fuck, okay, that's– that's definitely better!"

Moaning softly, Roy smirked around Jason's cock and rubbed the tip of his tongue over the swollen head, supping pre-cum from his slit. 

Jason was making noises Roy had never heard before–a combination of feral growls and tame whimpers of his name. He was a begging mess in Roy's mouth, and Roy was determined to keep him that way. 

Roy swallowed him in one gulp. The tip pressed against his throat until it breached through it, sliding down his throat. He moaned. 

With closed eyes, Roy could only feel the anxiety rushing through Jason's body again. It was only for a second before he relaxed, hips bucking up, cock sliding even deeper. Roy's nose got buried in Jason's dark hair, and he rolled his eyes in pleasure. 

Jason's thicc schlong tasted fantastic. He would choke on it 24/7. 

"Roy! Love, Roy– you gotta go easy on me or I–" Jason jerked back, and Roy felt sharp nails dig at his head. Into his head.

“Shit!” Jason exclaimed, drawing backwards, popping the cock out of Roy’s mouth. Roy could only blink, watching Jason devolve into panic as something wet trickled down the sides of Roy’s head. Jason’s blood-stained hands–almost like claws now, with red, ethereal, holographic-like claws extending from his fingers–grasped onto the wall, forming cracks in the paint and plaster.

“Hey,” Roy leaned forward to reach for Jason’s cheek, but Jason flinched. Roy frowned, backing up a bit as well. Jason squirmed against the wall, crunching through the plaster. An ethereal armour began to form around Jason, glowing red. His incisors grew, proportional to a sabertooth’s.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” Jason trailed, breathing deep and hard. Roy held on to Jason’s calf, expression imploring.

“I cannot control myself around humans, love,” Jason continued, again reaching out to softly caress strands of Roy’s hair. Roy continued to stare at the theatrics before him, how his light shone like a lighthouse at night. How patterns of red glow etched into his skin, reaching his eyes, within which grew even more intricate patterns. Pretty, beautiful man-eater.

“Is this the real you? You are. Gorgeous,” Roy spoke, reaching forward again to caress Jason’s cheek. Jason looked completely shocked–his eyes widened furthermore, and his jaw dropped. There was a mutual understanding between them as they stared into one another’s eyes. The kind only seen in two lonely men who found one another.

“Are you sure? To truly make you my mate, I must eat you,” Jason warned, voice brittle. He cupped Roy’s cheeks with both hands, imploring. 

“Well shit. Eat me,” Roy stated. And that was that.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Roy felt Jason gorge into his collarbone, ripping pounds of flesh from Roy’s body. The rip was an exquisite pain–every tissue and muscles stretching into thin strands, stretching and stretching until it was ripped apart. Blood gushed outward from him, dripping down his chest. It was a glorious, glorious mess. 

Roy could faint–he could die, really, from the sheer pain of it all. Yet with pain came the pleasure, and Roy threw his head back moaning so loud, his voice could bring the whole apartment block to its foundations.

“Does this feel good, love?” Jason asked, tilting Roy’s lolling head to meet eye-to-eye.

“I-I a-am, in heaven,” Roy whispered as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Jason continued to consume him, ripping and tearing and snapping his flesh from his bones. Between the pain, the pleasure, the sheer utter violence, Roy couldn’t tell what turned him on more. Just through the press of Jason’s teeth against his bones, through the soothing lips brushing against open flesh, Roy felt as if he was giving his whole being over to Jason. Almost his whole being.

“J-Jason, Jay…” Roy whispered as Jason picked at his shoulder bones.

“Yes, love?”

“Fuck me,” Roy gasped, his desire consuming and unrelenting. “Fuck me, Jason.” 

Jason hummed, then brushed his teeth against Roy’s neck. With a slow, agonising press, he pierced into Roy’s jugular, and released forth an impressive gush of blood.

Roy let out a gurgling moan, almost choking on the warm blood collecting in his throat. Absently, he felt Jason’s claws ripping off his t-shirt before taking care of his jeans. The strong fabric was butter under the sharp claws. 

He was naked, drained of blood and in pain, but his cock was standing proudly, almost pressing against his stomach. Jason raised a hand to his neck, dipping his fingers into the fresh blood pooling out of the hole in his jugular, before Roy could feel another hand spreading his butt cheeks.

Roy gasped and moaned and then he fell against Jason’s strong chest, hiding his face in the armor of bones. A sharp claw prodded at his tight muscle. It was almost gentle, almost careful. Until it wasn’t and Roy was screaming, arching his back at the finger pushing inside with violent force. 

“H-hurts! S-so good!” Roy breathed soundlessly, on the verge of blacking out.

Jason chuckled. 

“Your blood is so slick.”

Roy whimpered. He was drowning in the unreal pleasure the claw was giving him while his walls were ripped open. Another finger joined, a third came with it right away and Roy wasn’t sure how he could still be alive at this point. He was in heaven. 

“I’m so glad you’ll be a wraith soon. Else I’d need to worry that your sweet hole will never close after this again,” Jason moaned into his ear. “I’m going to open you so good for me, love. Let me wreck you.”

“Please,” Roy moaned, then gasped as a large, blunt head pressed against his torn hole. Roy’s eyes slowly widened and widened as more of Jason’s cock pushed into him, filled him, pressed into every bit of his sensitive hole.

Jason sat still for a moment, letting Roy slowly adjust himself. Roy placed one now skeletal hand on Jason, and in a surprisingly deep buck of Jason’s hips, they went off.

Roy’s moans dipped between deep grunts and hoarse screams, his ability to control himself completely and utterly demolished. The exquisite pain and pleasure that came with Jason fucking his large, thick cock into his rawness, pressing onto his abused prostate, rendered Roy completely unable to form thought. Roy was slave to Jason’s demands, to the thrust of his hips, to the rhythm of him bouncing up and down Jason’s lap as blood and flesh tore and shivered off his bones, as the bones themselves rattled and came undone. 

Through all the suffering and ecstasy, through the blood, flesh and bones, came a light within Roy. It soothed and scorched through his core, rays of orange light glowing from within. When Roy could open his eyes again, he saw shapes travel up his arm, and surround his skeletal hand. As Roy bounced, he held his hand up–now a large, glowing claw. 

“Yes,” Jason hissed into Roy’s flesh, continuing to gnaw at his stomach. Clenching and unclenching his new wraith hand, Roy felt vigour return to him. He gave it a test. Roy softly trailed the hand down the side of Jason’s face, lightly cusping it at the base of his jaw.

Then Roy gripped Jason’s chin. Hard. Hard enough to hear a crack as Roy turned Jason’s head to face him. 

“Roy,” Jason softly whimpered, a bruise forming around where Roy gripped. Roy smiled, feeling new power course through his veins. As more and more of his flesh was replaced with forms of light, as new wraith flesh grew within, Roy gathered back the energy he needed to not just be bounced, but to bounce on Jason’s lap. Roy slammed down, eliciting cries from Jason, who equally slammed back. A bruising rhythm between two wraiths, a lightshow of colours, a movement frantic enough to cave the sofa in. 

With a loud crack, they fell–Roy landed on his back, with Jason grasping for purchase on top of him. Roy felt something sharp press against his back, then a white flash–a cold, metal bar pierced into Roy’s back, through his body to stick out of his chest. Roy screamed. Jason’s weight pressed onto him, slowly pushing him down the bar. Roy groaned, eyes closing as his face scrunched in pain.

Slow kisses pressed against Roy’s cheek, kissing away the tears. Jason resumed his punishing grind, slow yet powerful short and calculated slams right onto Roy’s prostate. Roy felt his walls tear around the fat cock pounding into him, with such force that he could almost hear the muscles and tissue of his hole rip. Jason was literally splitting him open, impaling him on his hard cock.

Roy gurgled a moan that died in the kiss Jason was forcing onto his lips, hungry and brutal. A tongue pushed between his lips and teeth as if it were nothing, as if Jason owned his mouth. Jason did. And Roy complied, submitting himself to Jason. Jason’s hot tongue ground against Roy’s, making him close his eyes in euphoria. 

“Your cock’s already drooling on your belly, love,” Jason growled into the kiss. Roy could feel the lips twitch, feel the sharp canines biting into his bottom lip, nibbling onto the blood spilling out of the deep wounds. 

Roy was nothing more than a whimpering mess under Jason, split wide open and used, destroyed but feeling so right, right, right at the same time. 

Jason gripped the metal bar popping out of his chest. He smirked. Their eyes met and locked, and for a long moment, Roy just stared back into the black abysses, losing himself in the black void. And then, Jason pulled back, ripping the bar out of his chest, leaving his heart open to bleed out. 

It was the final push, the final pleasure, that brought Roy over the edge, untouched. Grinning, Jason grabbed Roy by his shoulders, holding him in place, and gave him one last punishing slam. 

When Roy came to, he felt his cum pool and shift on his stomach, mixing with the blood and sweat and tears. Jason was still pounding into Roy, holding Roy’s legs up when he himself couldn’t anymore. Jason was no longer fucking Roy for Roy’s pleasure, Jason was using him like a sex doll, thrusting into him quickly and wantonly. Recalling previous events, Roy’s eyes widened–he flopped a tired hand to his chest, checking for where the large, gaping hole was.

Nothing. Roy’s chest was reformed, hole-free. There were orange light forms emanating around him now, akin to Jason’s ethereal armour. Roy brushed his tired claws through the light, watching it flicker in and out of existence. Roy was a wraith now.

Roy’s head lolled back, giving into the spreading numbness of his body, the weakness of his limbs post-coital. The final shred of his consciousness relished in the final thrust, how Jason filled Roy to the brim with his cum, his stomach rounder and fuller. When Jason finally pulled out, he felt cum gush out of him, out of his torn, prolapsed entrance. Roy vaguely felt Jason carry him and rearrange his limbs on something else, but at that point, Roy was too blissed out to care.

* * *

The first thing Roy felt as he gained consciousness was strong, thick arms holding him in a tight embrace while fingers caressed his cheeks. Roy purred happily and buried his face in the warmth of, presumably, a chest. 

Someone chuckled. 

Roy frowned, wanting to crawl back into the peace of his sleep. How long had he been out? What exactly had happened? He didn’t want to know. As far as he was concerned, he wanted to enjoy that for once he was waking up under a blanket, possibly laying on a body (and it definitely felt alive!) keeping him safe, and without the usual throbbing migraine. 

Roy smacked his lips and tried to hold onto whoever was holding him, when a pair of lips touched his temple. 

“You back with me, love?” 

Roy froze, blinking confusedly against the sleepiness. Was that… was that Jay- no, Jason?

“You were pretty roughed up,” Jason continued while a hand stroked Roy’s back, rubbing him back into life. 

Roy groaned and stretched his muscles. Ah, yes. Memories. The more he cleared through his brain fog, the more pictures were filling his mind, overflowing his senses. He stiffened, winced, and then, carefully, raised his head to stare in Jason’s black eyes. Roy gulped. Those puppy eyes. So big and innocent and beautiful. 

Jason had a wide grin plastered on his lips, laughing lines creasing around his eyes. Roy had never seen them before. The world around them faded away as Roy held Jason’s gaze. Between them, they held an atmosphere of sweetness, care, and absolute adoration.

“Your eyes are gorgeous,” Jason whispered softly.

Roy blushed. 

“Are they… are they black?” Roy asked, eyes widened in excitement. Roy didn’t even think about it, but it made sense. After all, he was a wraith now.

“Black and beautiful. Like a night sky,” Jason smiled. 

A kiss was placed onto his lips. Compared to the one they had shared before, it almost felt too innocent to be real and Roy leaned into it, closing his eyes. His lips tingled from the love and care Jason put into it. When they broke apart, they continued to cheesily adore one another’s eyes, embroiled in love.

“I should get a mirror,” Roy spoke, excitedly. He slowly released himself from Jason’s embrace, and stood up to survey his environment.

“Wait a minute,” Roy muttered as he looked around, recognition slowly clicking into place. They were in the library. Roy’s (technically Ollie’s) penthouse library. Roy whipped his head around to stare at a sheepish-looking Jason.

“So you stalked me and made a–” Roy pointed at the pile of his blankets, accusing, “a nest or whatever in my place?” Roy asked, voice high-pitched and incredulous. Jason just grinned, shrugging.

“You weren’t using it in the first place,” Jason justified, mock-pouting. Roy glared, to no effect. Roy eventually relented, staring down at the pile of presumably lost things he was sitting in. It was comfortable after all. His new wraith instincts approved of the nest his mate provided for him.

“Let’s go grab the other blankets,” Roy shrugged. Jason smirked, rising from the nest to join him. Roy felt Jason slip his hands into his, and Roy softly accepted. Holding hands, they walked towards the living room.

They’d figure this wraith thing out. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Our Royboy went on a trip XD Thank you to [gavotteandgigue](https://gavotteandgigue.tumblr.com/) for betaing this work!! You're a treasure <3
> 
> If you liked this, do leave a kudos, and follow us at [Classy Contessa](https://classycontessa.tumblr.com/) and [Kinkstroke](https://kinkstrokewrites.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


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